


Too cool for school

by mybuddyryo



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Athletes, Awkward Crush, Brothels, Gen, Illegal Activities, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-29 18:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11446614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybuddyryo/pseuds/mybuddyryo
Summary: Though Mishima may not realize it, the sudden flowering of his social life has made him transition from Thirsty, Awkward Bro to Borderline Annoying Tool. Akira doesn't quite know how to feel about this.Mishima levels up, and Akira and Ryuji are lost without their Phan boy.





	Too cool for school

**Author's Note:**

> From the Persona 5 Kink Meme: "While being on the volleyball team had been hell on earth for Mishima, one of side-effects was that it had left him in pretty good shape. I just want some of the girls to notice and go, oh hey, he's actually pretty fine."

"M-mishima-kun?"

Mishima turns around and notices two first-year girls (and one second-year boy) staring at him.

"Oh...hey!" Mishima smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. He's a wallflower by nature, content to blend into the background rather than engage with classmates he barely knows, so this feels decidedly odd. When has anyone ever approached him first?

"Um...I just...I wanted to say that youlookreallyawesometoday!" The shorter of the two chirps, giggling coyly.

"Those workouts are _really_ paying off," her friend adds, biting back a grin. The second year boy blushes and nods in agreement, and Mishima is suddenly very aware of three pairs of eyes glued to the outline of his biceps.

"T-thanks," Mishima laughs, shuffling his feet. "Well, I'm glad somebody finally noticed."

He's been hitting the school gym every day ever since the volleyball team disbanded a month ago, eager to burn off steam whenever he reads any ludicrous comments on the Phan site; he just never expected his efforts to pay off so quickly. It hadn't been too difficult, seeing as Kamoshida's 'exercises' had already forced Mishima into decent shape. Now, the day feels empty if he isn't breaking a sweat.

He walks around Shujin the rest of the day with his head held high, unconsciously flexing.

***

Akira is trying to speed read through his study guide on Act IV of _Hamlet_ when Ryuji pokes him with a pencil. "Dude - you seen Mishima lately? When the hell'd he get so jacked?!"

Mishima is walking through the cafeteria in a skin-tight white shirt and sporting what can only be described as large A-cups. Akira sits back and crosses his arms, a bit stunned. "Impressive," he states. He's not used to seeing Mishima in anything other than baggy clothing.   
  
"He's gotta be juicing." Ryuji's laugh is laced with bitterness. "That...that just ain't natural."

"Looks like you better up your game," Akira teases.

"Hell yeah, I will!" Ryuji declares, slamming a fist on the table. Ping Tran's milk carton goes flying and shoots a small chocolate fountain across the floor, which earns Ryuji a cold glare. Even though Akira has finally downgraded from 'Yazuka lapdog' to 'street rat' over the last few months, they still can't get a seat at lunch anywhere other than the Physics Club's table.

Mishima catches sight of Akira and waves. Ryuji tries to duck down, but it's too late.

"Dammit," Ryuji mutters. "Why'd you make him come over here?" Akira shrugs and goes back to studying the fatal consequences of brooding.

"I really don't feel like seeing his annoying ass," Ryuji grumbles. "Welp. Guess I'll go take a leak." He hops out of his seat and walks toward the bathroom…which happens to be in the pathway of spilled milk.

Akira looks up just in time to catch Ryuji cursing as he slips, but it's too late to intervene. He winces and awaits hearing the thud of Ryuji's backside connecting with the hard linoleum.

To Akira's surprise, he doesn't.

The entire cafeteria stares at what appears to be _Mishima dipping Ryuji,_ whose head is only five inches above the floor. Akira can't tell who's more shaken up: Mishima, who must have ran at top speed to catch Ryuji, or Ryuji, who looks completely mortified.

If there's one thing Ryuji can't stomach, it's feeling emasculated. It doesn't happen often, but when it does...well, Akira can't help but feel a little sorry for the guy. Throngs of girls sitting near them start pointing and tittering, and an exclamation of 'No homo!' jars Ryuji out of his stupor. He scrambles out of Mishima's grasp.

"H-hands off, dude!" Ryuji exclaims. "What're you tryin' to pull?"

“I didn't want you to get hurt, that's all," Mishima shrugs. For once, he doesn't seem even a little sorry for being himself. He’s radiating an aura of subtle confidence that makes him actually seem a little…cool. Ryuji throws him a half-hearted thanks before he storms out of the cafeteria.

"What's up with him?" Morgana snorts.

***

When they go to P.E. on Wednesday, things don't get much better. The school district hired a new coach who might just be the polar opposite of Kamoshida, so their classes normally consist of aerobics and informal games like dodge ball. Today, they're herded out onto the playing field and given the option to play soccer or run laps. 

"So, Ann. What do you _really_ think of Mishima?" Ryuji asks. They're huddled together on a patch of artificial grass and trying to avoid the coach's gaze, too exhausted from yesterday's Mementos trek to move. Across the field, Mishima is doing timed sprints and keeping up with some of the best sprinters in their class. Maybe it was unwise to underestimate just how competitive Ryuji can be, because he's throwing daggers at Mishima that are sharper than a Shadow's claws.

"Y'know, now that you mention it, Mishima does look pretty fit," Ann says. "He's kind of cute, for a short guy." 

Ryuji makes a choked noise that sounds suspiciously like he's bitten his tongue off. 'Cute' is miles above what he's ever been called by a girl, and that's entirely unacceptable.  

"Dammit!" Ryuji spits. "That is _it_ , man. I'm heading to Protein Lovers after class. Stupid friggin' Mishima..." He stalks off toward the ultimate frisbee station while Akira  pretends to perform calf stretches. 

"Ryuji is way insecure," Ann laughs, though she sounds a bit guilty. "What a spazz." 

"Eh. He'll recover," Akira says. Truth be told, he's more surprised by Mishima's form than Ryuji's tantrum. Mishima's bare shoulders shimmer with sweat in the high midday sun, and he jumps over two consecutive hurdles with ease. Akira is so intrigued that he nearly topples over when Ann gives him a playful little push. 

The coach blows his whistle and Mishima whoops in victory when he's praised for having the best average time. A couple of their classmates toss him high-fives and a few girls gather around him, tittering and offering him towels. Akira is happy for him, but it's still a little bizarre that twenty pounds of muscle extracted Mishima from his shell and granted him an insane amount of popularity.

Still, Akira is sure that beneath his new look, Mishima is the same awkward Phan boy.

(...Right?)

***

"Come again?" Akira stammers.

"A date? Don't tell me you've never been on one," Mishima winks, and it's so uncharacteristically cocky of him that Akira's head spins.  _Mishima_ and a girl? Dating? It's the definition of surreal. 

"That's beside the point," Akira says, and Morgana's knowing snicker is like a backhanded slap. "The Phans need updates. There hasn't been new content for three days." It's the third time in almost a month that this has happened, but more disconcerting is the recent lack of leads on targets in Mementos. 

"Damn," Mishima sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I’ve been going out too much lately. There's always Sunday, right? Don’t worry.“ He's so nonchalant about it that Akira bites back a scowl. If they hadn’t have happened to run into one another in the hallway, would he have even remembered?

"You have to see this babe I reeled in!" Mishima waggles his brows, oblivious as ever. He takes out his phone and shows Akira a picture of a doe-eyed girl in a gingham skirt and a low-cut blouse. “I met her the other day when I was hanging out in Shinjuku. 8 out of 10, am I right? I’m thinking at least third base, maybe a solid home run.“

Though Mishima may not realize it, the sudden flowering of his social life has made him transition from Thirsty, Awkward Bro to Borderline Annoying Tool. Akira doesn't quite know how to feel about this.

“Anyways, I gotta head out. I told her I'd meet her by 6,” Mishima says. He tucks his phone in his pocket and rubs his hands together in excitement. "Man, I am so psyched!”

"Have fun…” Akira trails off, because what else can he say? Mishima gives Akira a thumbs up, and the awkward gesture spawns a shred of hope in his heart.

***

Later that night, Akira asks Ryuji to meet up at the diner on Central Street to 'hang out', which is code for 'discuss the Mishima situation'. Akira conveniently forgets to text Ann, Makoto and Yusuke, because he has the suspicion that holding a Phantom Thieves meeting about Mishima will be an invitation for all kinds of teasing jokes. Even Ryuji is reluctant to show up until Akira explains that the Phan site is in jeopardy. 

"Maybe this is a good thing. Mishima needed to blossom at some point," Morgana says, if only to get under Ryuji’s skin. 

"Nobody asked you," Ryuji scoffs. “Besides, when did Mishima get cool enough to hook up with girls? Screw him." 

“His physique _is_ a little impressive,” Morgana remarks. “Those muscles and that innocent twinkle in his eye probably reel in all the ladies.” He sighs dejectedly and scratches his ear. “If only I could have a human body again…”

“Woah — looks like Mona's got the hots,” Ryuji cackles.

If Morgana could have blushed, he would. "No! Y-you're wrong!" 

“He’s just jealous,” Akira says. “Aren’t you, Mona?” He ruffles the cat’s fur and narrowly dodges getting scratched.

“Look. We don’t have time to go wanderin’ around finding new targets, or scouring through a bunch of fake requests,” Ryuji says. “It sucks, but Mishima is our go-to guy. We need to hatch a plan to get his ass back on track.”

“You could ask him to do the Second Mate challenge at Big Bang Burger,” Morgana suggests. “That’ll make him fat, right? Then he won't be popular anymore.”

“Protein builds muscle, you idiot,” Ryuji sighs.

“O-o-h,” Morgana says. “Guess we wouldn’t want him turning into an even bigger _meat head._ Get it? Get it?!” Akira shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, and Ryuji looks downright disgusted.

Forty minutes and two orders of fries disappear as they try to figure out how to deal with Mishima's brazen acts of neglect. Yet no matter how hard they brainstorm, they can’t think of anything other than begging Mishima to pour all of his time back into the site while blowing their anonymity in the process.

"The Phantom Thieves are doomed without a PR guy," Ryuji groans. "How're we ever gonna get famous now?" An almost palpable expression of pain crosses his face as his fantasies of acclaim - and all the women clambering to get on his arm - fly out the window. 

A minute later, Akira's phone rings. His caller ID says 'Mishima'; the timing is so eerie that Akira has a difficult time believing it, until Mishima calls him back.

"You gonna answer that?" Ryuji points to Akira’s phone with a fry.

Akira picks up on the third ring, cool and casual. “Hey. How's your—“

"A-Akira?!' _Oh_. That fainthearted tone is startlingly familiar. “I think I’m in trouble. I screwed up, real bad.“ Morgana’s ears perk up at Mishima's words, tail swishing anxiously.

"Where are you?" Akira won’t admit it, but he’s just as concerned.

“Kabukicho,” Mishima replies. “I’m at a bar called The Crimson Rose—that girl forced me to come here and then the next thing I knew, her boss was demanding 200, 000 yen—“

“Calm down.” Akira flags the waitress over for the check. “Explain from from the beginning. We’re on our way now.”

***

On the train ride to Kabukicho, Akira summarizes Mishima’s frantic recollection of his disastrous evening.

Evidently, the innocent foreign high school girl Mishima thought he was taking out suggested they go to her favorite bar, which secretly doubled as a strip club-cum-brothel. After convincing him to take her into the back room, she proceeded to perform a lukewarm lap dance that lasted approximately one minute and thirty seconds. Only after the fact did she inform Mishima there was a 200, 000 yen fee their ‘date’. When he objected, she suddenly forgot how to speak Japanese.

“What an effin’ pain. Who’s that stupid? And why'd he call you, anyway?” Ryuji scowls. Akira has been friends with him long enough to realize that the display is just a cover-up for his anxiety.

“It’ll be fine,” Akira says, though he’s struggling to believe it himself.

With the help of Akira’s GPS, they find the bar tucked away in a nasty little corner of Kabukicho. The Crimson Rose is sandwiched between a scroungy dumpling shop and a laundromat that went out of business months ago; the glowing neon hearts in the window make it painfully obvious how shady it is. 

“What a numbskull,” Morgana mutters. “He didn’t think this was suspicious at all?”

“Guess not,” Akira shrugs. The glass is so tinted that it’s impossible to see inside. From working at Iwai’s shop, he knows that most of Shinjuku's adult entertainment is under the Yakuza’s thumb; it might be risky, but they can’t just throw Mishima to the wolves. Summoning all his courage, Akira opens the door and leads the way.

When they walk inside, the front of the bar looks surprisingly ordinary. A fog machine sputters out smoke and a group of waitresses in bodysuits are chatting with the bartender. A few middle aged men are sitting at a table and sharing a pitcher of beer. Three pink curtains near the back lead to what Akira can only assume are areas for ‘special’ customers. They approach the hostess and Morgana disappears into his duffel bag, grumbling about the fumes.

“Oh, hell-o-o-o, there!” The hostess grins, giving them a blatant once-over. “Well, well. It isn’t every day that such handsome young men step into our bar. What can I do for you?"

“Is Mishima Yuuki here?” Akira asks, cutting straight to the chase.

The hostess clicks her tongue and sighs. “Oh. Hold on _one_ second.” She saunters off behind the middle curtain. After fifteen minutes of listening to Ryuji rank each of the girls, the hostess returns. “Yeah, he’s back there,” the hostess snaps, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “The boss ain’t in a good mood, just warning you.”

“Sheesh,” Ryuji whispers. “She dropped the bimbo act real fast, didn’t she?”

Indeed, they pull back the curtain and find Mishima sitting in booth before a rented stripper pole. When Ryuji and Akira step into the light, his face turns scarlet and he hangs his head in shame.

“Who the hell are they?” A man with a blaring bald spot jabs an incriminating finger at Akira and Ryuji.

“We’re his friends,” Ryuji sneers. “And he _ain’t_ giving you con artists—“

“Sorry about what happened,” Akira jumps in. “We give you the cash, you let him off the hook. Deal?” Akira pulls out a clip of bills worth at least 350,000 yen as Mishima weakly rattles off a string of apologies. 

“What the — how are you that loaded?!” Ryuji hisses, but Akira just shoots him a hard stare. He grimaces when old man pockets the cash he's earned from fighting Shadows and juggling three part-time jobs. It’s satisfactory enough, but the boss doesn’t hesitate to violently threaten them to never come back again. 

Ryuji, Akira, and Mishima spill out onto the sidewalk and half-run, half-walk away from The Crimson Rose. A few minutes later, Mishima crumples and asks if they can take a break. He slumps against a wall and catches his breath, his brow still soaked in sweat from what Akira assumes was a lengthy interrogation.

“I think a sliver of my soul just escaped my body…” Mishima groans.

“More like your brain,” Ryuji snorts. Still, he casts Mishima a sympathetic look. “You okay? That was intense.”

“I think so,” Mishima sighs. “Kurusu, that was…that was totally badass. Where’d you get all that cash?”

“It’s a secret,” Akira says, because it’s easier than trying to craft an elaborate lie. “And no, you don’t need to pay me back. Let’s just head to the station.” 

Mishima, to his credit, doesn’t ask anything else about it. An oddly peaceful silence hangs in the air as they trek toward home. It’s not unlike how Akira feels when they narrowly escape death in Mementos — too shaken up and relieved to say much. 

“Hey, Akira?” Mishima says.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about slacking off on the Phan site,” Mishima mumbles. “I guess I’m just not used to being liked…it was hard to turn down the attention. But the site means more to me than anything, you know? Thanks for reminding me of that.” Mishima clenches his fists and adopts an expression of pure resolve. “I’ll stay in and I won’t work out until I’ve completed all my updates, I promise!”

"Uh...sounds good." Akira considers lecturing Mishima about his tendency toward extremes, but he decides against it.

When they get off at Aoyama-itchōme, they awkwardly stand in a circle and scuff at the concrete with their shoes as Akira tries to come up with a conclusive goodbye. _Sorry you were extorted by a hooker and her pimp — see you around?_

“Thanks for all your help,” Mishima smiles, breaking the ice. "You guys really are heroes, you know.” He rubs at his eyes, which are still puffy and pink at the corners. Akira’s chest aches a bit.

“No worries,” Akira says blithely, patting Mishima on the back. Mishima leans in and surprises him with a full-on hug; with their bodies pressed together, Akira can feel everything: the hardness of his chest, the tapered outline of his waist, the strong, lean muscles of his arms. What’s more surprising is that Akira (awkwardly) hugs him back. When Mishima finally lets go, Akira is at an utter loss for words.

“S-see you next week!” Mishima bolts toward the exit before they can respond. 

“Well, that settles it: that guy is a total lunatic,” Ryuji says, shaking his head. "Don't you think so, Akira?”

“…”

“…Dude. Are you _blushing_?”

**Author's Note:**

> He's a lunatic...get it? (Insert Morgana's laugh here)


End file.
